


The One Where Frisk Dies

by TruePacifist27



Series: The One Where They Die [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Post-Pacifist Route, i cried okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:58:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5189531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruePacifist27/pseuds/TruePacifist27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the comic by creativegreenbeans.tumblr.com</p><p>“Hey buddy, time to load up that SAVE huh?” </p><p>It was snowing, ironically, as Sans gazed down at the rough stone. It was pretty much shapeless, as all his creations were. Their name was etched in as hard as he could, with lines too jagged and letters uneven. It was hard to concentrate and keep things even when he was a sobbing mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Frisk Dies

**Author's Note:**

> It's close to 2 in the morning and I'm crying but the comic was the cutest thing ever and I had to write it you have no idea. 
> 
> Story was based off this comic: creativegreenbeans.tumblr.com/post/132919830316

_Brother, why aren’t they waking up yet?_ Papyrus had innocently questioned.

 _Of course we couldn’t have our cake and eat it too!_ Undyne had screamed.

 _We- I could have done something._ Alphys had cried.

 _W-whats wrong with them?_ MK had gasped.

 _How could we have lost another?_ Asgore had whispered.

 _Wasn’t it ironic?_ Toriel had asked.

Sans couldn’t keep up with everyone. Everyone had questions. Everyone wanted answers. He didn’t have anything. Not a word of advice, no wisdom, and certainly no joke to tell. He couldn’t imagine trying to make a joke now. Not when his best audience wasn’t around to hear it.

“Hey buddy, time to load up that SAVE huh?”

It was snowing, ironically, as Sans gazed down at the rough stone. It was pretty much shapeless, as all his creations were. Their name was etched in as hard as he could, with lines too jagged and letters uneven. It was hard to concentrate and keep things even when he was a sobbing mess.

Toriel had offered to make it, since she was Frisk’s ‘mother’ and next of kin. But Sans couldn’t let Tori do that to herself. To let her etch the name of her recent child and solidify the end of their life...no, Sans wasn’t going to put Toriel through that. In human cultures, the family usually pay someone else to do this for them. To monsters, and specifically to Sans, that felt impersonal. Instead he offered, and he spent hours- no, days, on the simplest headstone.

It was snowing, ironically, just like the first day he and Frisk met.

The funeral was a quiet affair, and everyone who stood to speak about their friend and family member wept openly. Almost, if not all of the monsters Frisk had openly conversed and grew close to, were there. One by one each left an offering or a simple pat and a few whispered prayers on their headstone. Monster Kid, or MK, wept openly and head-butted the stone until their parents had to drag the poor kid away.

The funeral went on for hours, as most monsters had a least one thing to say. Because really, who wouldn’t say their last goodbyes to the Savior of Monsters.

By dusk, all who were left were their small, makeshift family.

Alphys was patting Undyne’s back as she wept openly on to her girlfriend’s shoulder. Tears streamed down her scaly, yellow skin, but her head stayed trained on her feet. She couldn’t find it in herself to look at anyone, let alone even glance at Frisk’s grave. Sans could understand. He knew that she blamed herself more than anyone else. She was a doctor. Granted she wasn’t a medical doctor, but she swore to both the King and Queen that she would save their new child.

She couldn’t.

Asgore had his arms wrapped tightly around Toriel as she sobbed. She was the only one there when Frisk took their last labored breath. She was the quietest out of all of them when the news broke out. She did not fall to hysterics, nor did she blame or threaten or fight anyone when they took her kid to be examined. Sans was worried about her the most, until he found her days later destroying her room with all the fire in her being. Later that same day, when Sans was able to calm her down and made her a fresh cup of tea, did she finally cry for her lost child.

“Isn’t it ironic?” She had asked.

Yes, it was. She had lost her first human child before Frisk to almost the same thing. To a sickness no one seemed able to cure.

Asgore had fallen to his knees the second the news about Frisk’s death had reached him. He did not resort to crying, but surprisingly, with anger. He had roared at any who dared tried to take his child away and threatened anyone who tried to even touch his little one. Toriel had been a blessed calm to his anger, but they both worked through their grief as much as they possibly could. When the last of the dirt covered Frisk away, Asgore finally gave in to his grief and cried into Toriel’s fur as she weeped in his.

Papyrus...his brother, Sans was worried for the most out of everyone. He had cried, as expected, but he had recovered surprisingly quickly. That was only because his mind couldn’t seem to process what had actually happened, and he seemed to think Frisk was only in a really, really deep sleep.

“They will wake one day Sans! This book, Sleeping Beauty, says so!!”

Sans tried to explain that no, no Frisk won’t get up by some magical kiss. This wasn’t a fairytale that had a happy ending where everyone lived happily ever after. This was harsh, cold reality. Frisk was not getting up. Still, Papyrus was in denial, and he would wake every morning with a whistle and a plan to make Frisk the best spaghetti ever for when they wake up.

It wasn’t until the first pile of dirt was thrown over Frisk’s casket did the hard truth seem to register to his brother.

“Brother, why aren’t they waking up yet?!” Papyrus had fretted. “They need to stop throwing dirt on them! They won’t be able to get out!”

Ever so slowly Papyrus fell to his knees and sobbed, tears falling out his eye sockets as he tried to claw at Frisk’s grave, crying and yelling that Frisk needed to wake up. Sans held on to his brother as hard as he could, tears staining his own jacket as they fell out of his eye sockets. Toriel had cried in response, clutching at her chest and wanting to run away. Papyrus soon understood that Frisk was officially gone, and he clung onto his brother like his life depended on it and wept. He cried for his greatest friend. He cried over their love of puzzles, their dedication to eat his spaghetti, their unrequited love for him, until his throat ran hoarse and he couldn’t cry anymore.

When the sun fell and the moon rose, many monsters made their way home. A quiet group they all were, as no one dared to utter a sound. Soon after Alphys pulled Undyne away and towards their car to go home. Undyne had growled and raged until all fight left her. With shoulders slumped and her eyes trained to the ground, she took a hold of Alphys hand and walked away without saying a word. She didn’t say a single word the whole funeral, or even the days before it. It was very concerning, but Sans knew Alphys will help her somehow. They’ll help each other. They had to. For Frisk…

Asgore soon pulled Toriel away as well, as the night was getting darker and the cold winds of winter were seeping into their fur. Toriel had pulled away one last time, to say her last good byes, and the skeleton brothers gave her some privacy. When she had placed her last kiss on the hard stone, she rose from her kneeling position slowly and grabbed onto Asgore for support. Together, they made their way home, grasped together just like before.

Sans and Papyrus were the last to leave, and Sans knew they’ll be there for awhile yet. The cold didn’t affect them like the others, but somehow Sans wished it would. He felt so guilty, but he couldn’t stand another minute staring at the cold lettering of the headstone. It wasn’t right. Frisk’s name shouldn’t be anywhere on the stupid stone. They shouldn’t be underground, dead. They should be right here, shivering in the cold and holding onto San’s hands as tight as their little hands could.

Sans could remember the very same day Frisk came to them with news of their sickness.

Papyrus wasn’t one to listen to bad news, and promised Frisk that they would help Alphys to find a cure for their sick friend. Sans had replied to something similar, and told Frisk to not worry about it.

Later that night, when Papyrus was put to bed (after demanding a story from both Sans and Frisk) Sans sat down with Frisk at the kitchen table. Sans mentioned their SAVES.

Frisk had smiled. That same damn smile that repeats over and over again in his mind. That smile that said- they had everything under control, but it wasn’t going to end well. For them. It was the same smile they gave when Sans had stopped them before going after Asgore. It was the same smile that they gave before they made their way to fight Flowey, or Asriel, or whoever they said they were.

Sans hated that smile.

Sans even said that they could Reset, he wouldn’t get mad. He would understand, and was almost tempted to make them reset. They said this wasn’t going to be like all the other ones. A SAVE wasn’t going to save them this time. They didn’t even mention the Reset. Sans couldn’t understand it though, not until Frisk took their last breath and Toriel had called him and calmly told him that Frisk had passed.

A SAVE wasn’t going to save them.

It didn’t stop Sans from hoping- from dreaming.

“Hey buddy, time to load up that SAVE huh?” Sans had choked out, grasping onto his brother who was kneeling in front of the headstone.

“I don’t know what you mean Sans.” Papyrus’s voice was small, like a whisper, and Sans was almost angry to hear it. His brother was always, always, no matter what, supposed to be loud and happy.

Sans forced out a chuckle, shaking his brothers shoulder. “Don’t worry about it bro, just talking to myself.”

They both went quiet, and they stared at the head stone, both dreaming and wishing for this to all be a bad dream. The moon was now high in the sky, and the winds were picking up and rattling their bones. Sans tugged at his brother’s shoulders.

“Come on Bro, we should probably get going…”

Papyrus sighed, slowly lifting himself off the ground. “Okay…”

They were slow to leave though, as they both couldn’t tear themselves away from the stone. It was their friend under all that snow and dirt. Their friend that they feel like they didn't get a chance to properly say goodbye to.

A tug on Papyrus’s scarf brought him back to the present, and he stiffened at the familiarity of it. All those times where Frisk would sneak up behind him and announce their presence by the tug on their scarf. He almost felt angry at his brother, for doing something so cruel to him.

“I appreciate your attempts to comfort me Sans, but tugging on my scarf familiar-like is not helping.” Papyrus groused, turning to his brother.

Sans was actually shocked, never hearing such aggressiveness before, especially directed at him. And, he definitely wasn’t tugging at anything. At the rate he was going, he would probably need to be tugged away from Frisk’s grave himself.

“What- I’m not-”

There was another couple tugs, more forceful than the last, and the two brothers turned in surprise. What, or exactly who, they found at the end of Papyrus’s scarf wasn’t anyone they thought to ever see. For a moment, they couldn’t even believe their eyes.

Standing behind them, with little skeleton hands grasping onto the red scarf tightly, was- it was someone very very familiar. Wide eyes, with tears threatening to fall, stared up at the boys, and their hearts instantly leapt. They didn’t need skin and hair and color to know who it was before them. With their striped sweater and little shorts and giant boots, there couldn’t have been anyone else in the world.

Who stood before them, though a skeleton through and through, was Frisk.

The brothers screamed Frisk’s name in both happiness and disbelief, before they tackled the little bag of bones and cuddled with them tight, squishing them between both of their bony bodies. Tears streamed down both brothers face, and they planted kisses (as close as they can with no lips) all over Frisk’s smooth skull. Sans typical smooches were a light tap of his teeth and a long said “smooooch” or “kiiiiiiss”, while Papyrus’s were more of a heartier repeated tap of his teeth. Frisk gave both brothers their own form of kisses, which were just the rubbing of teeth on whatever bone they had in front of them.

Sans had no idea how this was possible, or for any reason as to why and how Frisk was a monster now, but Sans couldn’t have a care in the world. Their Frisk was back, and the brothers were going to make sure that they stayed that way.

He knew he had to tell the gang -and the whole world too- that Frisk was alive. But for now, he was selfish, and he held onto Frisk for dear life, thanking all the powers in the universe for giving him Frisk back.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeaaaah, its 2 in the morning and I'm about to pass out. All mistakes will be fixed when I rise from the dead tomorrow. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
